Always Smiling
by NurdBurger
Summary: III is depressed. IV and V don't know. Please don't hate me. Bad summary.


•**Always Smiling•**

I am so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Please don't hate me. I honestly don't want by baby III/Trey/Michael/Mihael to die.  
**  
#######**

Michael Arclight walked slowly, a small knife in his right hand. He wandered into his bedroom, and sat on the pink bed. He brought the knife to his arm, contemplating whether or not to break the skin. The pinkette then pressed, and let the red blood flow. He did this 16 times before bandaging up his arm and cleaning the knife. He felt a bit weak, so he got himself a cup of tea and went to the living room.

"Michael, what are you doing?" Thomas turned as his younger brother sat down and sipped his tea.

"I'm drinking tea." Michael sipped again, before putting the delicate teacup down.

"Thomas, if anything bad happened to our family, would you still love me?" Thomas glanced at his brother.

"Why would you ask something like that?" The burgundy-blonde left the room, leaving the youngest feeling neglected and deserted. It left him with one question. The big brother who he looked up to so much, who he admired, adored, and idolized, did that big brother even love him?

Michael sighed and went to get the small knife again.

########## 

"Michael? Are you ok?" Thomas knocked on his brother's door, concerned. Michael had been in there for several hours, and he hadn't even made dinner.

"I-I'm fine, brother! Please don't come in!" The pinkette sounded panicked, and Thomas heard him fiddling with something behind the door.

"Michael?" Thomas tried to open the door, but it was locked.

"Don't come in!" Michael sounded downright petrified now.

"Michael! Let me in!" Thomas pounded on the door, causing Christopher to run up the stairs.

"What's going on?" He tried the door, but it was still locked.

"Michael, please open the door. Unless you're getting changed. Are you getting changed?"

Brief pause.

"Yes." Thomas rolled his eyes, not believing a word of it.

"Why are you getting changed, Michael?" Christopher kept asking, utterly confused.

"I spilt tea on my jacket." Came the reply.

"Does it take you 4 hours to change your jacket?" Christopher grinned, knowing the answer.

"YES!" Michael stood up from his bed, thinking 'it does if you're tearing your arms open with a knife'. He pulled his sleeves down over his bandaged arms and slipped on his jacket, then opened the door to his brother, careful to keep the bloody knife hidden.

"What are you doing?" Christopher bent down so he was eye-level with the small 15-year-old.

"I'm talking to you." Christopher sighed, knowing he wouldn't get anything out of the pinkette this way.

"Go make dinner, Michael."

**#######**

Michael made the dinner; roast pork, roast potatoes, steamed vegetables. He was careful to burn his fingers several times before serving. As he called for his brothers, he absentmindedly grabbed the hot tray.

"YAAAAAHHH!" The 15-year-old flung the tray into the air, and fell over. The tray clattered to the floor as the other 3 Arclights ran in.

"Michael! Are you ok? What happened?" Grimacing, Michael stood up.

"It's ok, brothers. I just grabbed the tray. It's still hot." Michael smiled, and ran his scalded fingers under some cold water.

"Thomas, could you serve the dinner, please?" Michael turned off the tap and went to the bathroom to find the soothing cream. But Thomas followed him, leaving the dinner to Christopher.

Michael tore off his jacket and flung it to the ground. He nearly ripped of his sleeves trying to pull them up, and he undid the bandages, revealing hundreds, maybe even thousands of cuts. Thomas gasped, horrified.

"Michael?" The red-eyed teenager stepped into the room, tears threatening to fall. Michael jumped and hid his arms behind his back.

"Thomas! I told you to serve dinner!" Michael cried angrily.

"You don't have to do this, Michael! Whatever is making you feel this way, I'll fix it! If someone is doing this, making you feel bad, I'll beat them up! Do you hear me? You're my baby brother and nothing is going to take you away from me!" Thomas grabbed his brother's shoulders. Michael's expression hardened, and tears started rolling down his soft pink cheeks.

"PUMMEL YOURSELF THEN!" The pinkette broke free of his brother's grip, then ran from the bathroom.

Thomas stood still, shocked. Did Michael mean that THOMAS had been making him feel this way? He thought back to that afternoon:

~flashback~

~~Michael put down his tea and sighed.

"Thomas, if anything bad happened to our family, would you still love me?" Thomas glanced at his brother.

"Why would you ask something like that?" He left the room, wondering what the heck his beloved baby bro was on about.~~

~end flashback~

Thomas realized he was kneeling on the bathroom floor, hand shaking. He had driven his brother to this.

It was all his fault.

**#######**

Michael ran through the house, cuts exposed. He tore off his blouse-like top, leaving a white t-shirt underneath. He stopped, and tore off his boots and over-pants, revealing a pair of red leggings. He then ran up 4 flights of stairs, heart pounding tears blinding him. He gasped for breath, but kept on running, before needing to stop. he leant against the railing and then he was falling, falling way further than he should have.

"MICHAEL! WHERE ARE YOU?" Thomas sprinted through the house, desperate to fix things with his baby bro.

"MICHAAaaaoh." Thomas stopped, frozen in place. He stared at the body in front of him. He wore a white t-shirt and red leggings, and a pair of pink socks. He had curled pink hair, and glassy green eyes. His neck was at an odd angle and there was a pool of blood around him.

"Oh, God. CHRISTOPHER! DAD! HELP!" Thomas knelt next to Michael, not caring that blood was soaking through his pants. He heard the man-child and his brother running up, then gasping in horror. But Thomas ignored them. He grabbed Michael's hand, trying to will him back to life. But it was no good. Chris looked up, and saw that some of the railing on the fourth floor had given way. Michael must've leant on it, he thought. He picked up the shaking man-child, who gripped Christopher's jacket and shook with tears of fear, horror, and grief.

"It's all my fault." Christopher knelt next to his brother, trying to sooth him.

"It wasn't your fault. He must've slipped."

"NO! You don't understand! You didn't see his arm! You didn't hear him! He's been slicing his arms open, Chris! And he told me it was MY FAULT!" Thomas screamed in grief, throwing himself onto the pinkette's broken body.

"This is bad, this is very bad." Christopher murmured to himself, knowing how sensitive Thomas was.

"Thomas, look at me. Don't try anything stupid. Don't hurt yourself of try to go with Michael. You have to live, and Michael would've wanted you to live-""NO!" Chris backed off, startled.

"Michael told me it was my fault! He probably wanted me to die!" And with that, Thomas sprinted to the kitchen. Christopher put Tron down and ran after his brother.

"Thomas, don't do it!" Christopher looked at his brother, who held a knife to his throat.

"Michael was always smiling. He was always happy, always giving. But inside he must've been crying, he must've been depressed, never getting back. Did I ever make him tea? Did I ever help him win a duel? Did I ever make dinner? Did I ever help him with his homework? NO! But he did all that for me!" Thomas then slit his throat, the blood dripping into the floor.

"THOMAS!" Christopher ran and caught his baby brother, and cradled him, stroking his hair. Thomas grinned at his brother, before weakly saying:

"He was always smiling."

Then he closed his eyes and joined his baby brother, always smiling, always smiling.

"Goodnight, Thomas."

Always smiling.

#######

**I AM SO EVIL.**


End file.
